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Leland Tiberius Boone looked in the pantry of the meager galley aboard the Pandora and then looked down at his companion, Archimedes. Archimedes was an orange Terran domestic short hair feline Boone had taken possession of when his previous owner had been taken into custody for breaking a contract.

‘Sorry buddy, there’s nothing in here that you can eat,’ he told the cat, who gave him a doleful look and peeked into the pantry himself. ‘See?’

Archimedes looked into the pantry and saw how bare it was before padding off toward the cockpit.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Boone asked as his stomach growled, following the cat that seemed to have a great deal more intelligence than it should.

The doors to the cockpit opened and Archimedes settled himself into the co-pilot’s chair, curling up and closing his eyes. Boone sat down in the pilot’s chair and consulted the ship’s chronometer. The rendezvous should happen within the next hour or so and he would finally get enough gold pressed latinum to buy some food and a few replacement parts for the ageing rust bucket he owned, provided that Brunt didn’t cheat him again (but he was now wise to the former liquidator’s schemes, so it was unlikely), and maybe even install a replicator. He was about to run a scan of the area when the communications system sputtered to life with a clank and a bleep.

‘Skritz this piece of junk,’ he muttered as he attempted to coax into life to receive whatever message was being sent.

‘Are you talking to me, hew-mon?’ the grainy snaggle-toothed face of Brunt appeared on the monitor.

‘No, Brunt, I’m talking to my communication system which is ready to die.’

‘Good, because I’d hate to lose such a talented bounty hunter. I have some good news and bad news for you.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘The good news is that DaiMon Glok killed the two FCA Liquidators sent after him and they raised the bounty on him to 30 bricks.’

Boone whistled, ‘what’s the bad news?’

‘With a three-brick incentive, you have competition to bring him in.’

Boone smiled, ‘don’t worry about me, Brunt. I have a lead on him. You’ll have him on Ferenginar within the week.’

‘And you’ll have your three bricks,’ the former liquidator responded sourly.

The monitor dissolved into static and Boone slapped it with his palm. Archimedes opened an eye and looked at him.

‘I’ll catch Glok and with three bricks of gold pressed latinum we’ll be able to fix up this bucket of bolts,’ Boone told Archimedes and rubbed the cat’s empty stomach as he closed his eye and went back to sleep.

The proximity klaxon blared and Boone silenced it as a ship dropped out of warp. The Klingon Bird of Prey came to a stop less than a thousand kilometers away from the Pandora, well within weapons and transporter range, and Boone silently prayed that this was the same ship he had encountered before. The transponder and hull markings matched but that didn’t really mean anything.

He opened a communications channel and was surprised to see that it worked without the need for percussive maintenance. ‘This is Leland Boone of the Pandora. Do you have my merchandise, N’Weh?’

The monitor showed a Klingon on a tight angle, presumably so Boone couldn’t see anything of the ship which he could use to his advantage. N’Weh was old, his hair was white and his skin wrinkled like a prune, but the close angle still made him look intimidating. ‘I have your merchandise. Do you have my latinum, Earther?’

Boone hid a smile at the Klingon’s old derogatory term for a human. ‘Beam aboard and we’ll make the exchange.’

‘You will try no tricks or I will blow you away,’ N’Weh said unnecessarily.

‘You’ve scanned my ship. You know what I’ve got.’

‘Nothing for us to take,’ he said. ‘Killing you is no test of my skill.’

‘Then beam aboard and we will make the trade.’

The monitor suddenly went blank and Boone wondered whether the system had finally died or if N’Weh had cut the channel. His panic subsided when a pillar of red particles began to coalesce a few feet behind him. N’Weh materialized and looked around as Archimedes hissed at him from the pilot’s chair. The Klingon whipped out his disruptor and aimed it at the animal.

‘What is that creature?’

‘It’s a cat, my pet,’ Boone said as he moved between the enraged feline and the Klingon, ‘and I promise you that if you hurt him in any way, it will be the last thing you do.’

N’Weh looked at the cat and turned his attention to Boone. ‘You should have a targ. It is a more useful pet.’

‘I’ve heard about targs. You eat them, don’t you?’

N’Weh returned the disruptor to its holster and reached into his cloak, withdrawing a Cardassian data rod. ‘Here’s your information.’

Boone took the data rod and, without turning his back on the Klingon, slid it into a slot on navigation console. Satisfied that what he needed was there, he handed N’Weh a box. ‘Seven bars of latinum, just as you asked for.’

N’Weh opened the box and inspected its contents. ‘Do not contact me again,’ he said as he pressed the recall device on his wrist.

Once he was gone, Archimedes shook himself and settled back down for a nap while Boone sat in the pilot’s seat and looked over the information. Glok had done a lot of business with various Houses over the years, including one of N’Weh’s enemies, but the Ferengi’s fortunes had dried up during the war as the Klingons spent less on luxuries and more on the war effort. According to this information, Glok had tried to blackmail the House of Konjah claiming knowledge of an illegitimate heir but it had backfired and the House put out a contract on Glok.

Glok made a deal in which he agreed to work for them in order to pay off his debts. He then reneged on the deal and the Klingons put out the contract again. The Ferengi Commerce Authority revoked Glok’s business license and ordered him to appear before the Board of Liquidators to face penalties for his crimes. He did not appear and thus the bounty was offered.

The information on the data rod was extensive; detailing everyone that Glok had done business with within the Empire, all eighty-seven of them. It was possible that Boone would be able to traverse Klingon space to question some of them, but it might cost him everything he had left in bribes, or even his life. In order to make good on his promise to Brunt, he decided to contact a handful of important ones by subspace, including one that N’Weh had listed as one of Glok’s business associates, rather than a customer, as long as he could find them.

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"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined." - Henry David Thoreau